The Last Year
by poetrygurl
Summary: Harry is going to be in his last year at Hogwarts. He's worried about life and about living without Cho, who he feels he can't go on without. He meets a girl named Charlie, and they learn how to save each other. **UPDATED!!**
1. Leaving the Dursley's

"Harry, you're a disgrace! I can't believe you managed to turn Mrs. Figgs into a cat!" Uncle Vernon roared, staring into my eyes with his squinty blue ones. "You've caused more trouble this summer than you've done on all your other vacations!"  
  
I arched my eyebrows at him. "Really?" I murmured. "More trouble than when I turned Dudley into a piece of cake and fed him to you, Uncle Vernon?"  
  
Uncle Vernon purpled as he rubbed his hand on his stomach, still remembering that dreaded summer. It was between my fourth and fifth year, and I had turned a bit of a rebel, figuring I was going to die from Voldermort's rise of power anyway.  
  
But no, I'd survived. And I was still alive now, unfortunately. As I stood in front of Uncle Vernon, slumping my tall, gangly figure against the baby grand in the corner, I remembered how many times I had wished I were dead in the past three years. There had been a lot of trouble, a lot of sadness, and a lot of loss.  
  
As I straightened now, rolling my eyes and heading for the door, I gave the "family" a flippant wave over my shoulder. "Bye, now, Dursley's. I've got to get going. You know, to Hogwarts."  
  
Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to reply, but the purple color faded, being taken over by a whitish tint as I flicked my wand at the front door. It banged open. "What am I supposed to do about Mrs. Figgs?" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
I turned around and smiled lazily. "Write a letter to the Ministry of Magic." Shrugging, I pointed to the owl I'd given them earlier that summer. "Flutter will know what to do with it."  
  
"How dare-" but I cut him off before he could continue yelling at me. I gave them another wave and exited the cold, foreign house into the deep, warm summer night. I grabbed my heavy trunk and thumped down the front porch to the sidewalk, where I stuck out my wand hand and waited patiently. This is how I'd been getting to the Leaky Cauldron since the summer of my fourth year, when I'd gone one step too far with the Dursley's and Vernon had decided to stop giving me rides to King's Cross.  
  
In a matter of minutes, the Knight Bus was roaring down my street. As it skidded to a halt, a pimple-less Stan stepped off. He smiled at me and took my trunk. Older now, he'd matured into a handsome man. "Looking good, Stan," I said as I climbed aboard.  
  
He grinned and stared at the ground. "Aw, thanks man. But you know you look better."  
  
I grinned in appreciation. "Thanks," I murmured. Stan always knew when I needed to be cheered up. "I'll take one bed and a hot chocolate."  
  
As he threw my trunk in the luggage bin, he called over his shoulder, "So what's the news, Harry?" We asked each other this whenever we saw the other.  
  
I shrugged. "Nothing much. I turned my old neighbor into a cat this summer." He grinned, always pleased to hear my childish antics. "My birthday's in two days."  
  
"Yeah," he nodded, his forehead creased in concern. "I noticed we're picking you up about a week early. How come? Just couldn't take it anymore?"  
  
I sighed as I threw myself on a bed, digging deeper into the covers. When my reply came, after a few seconds of thought, it was muffled. I'd pulled a pillow over my head. "I don't know. I'm gonna be seventeen, you know? This is my last year of security at Hogwarts. And, hopefully, my last year with the Dursley's. I have to rebel. I don't know." I shrugged again, though he couldn't see it.  
  
"I know, man, I know how it is. That's how it was for me, too," he nodded knowingly as he trotted to the expresso bar to get my beverage. There was a moment of silence until I asked him what was up. He was so antsy he seemed about to bounce. "Aurora and I are gonna tie the knot, man."  
  
I sat up. "You and Aurora?" I yelped. Yeah, they'd been going together for about two years now, but I'd never pictured them settling down to start a family. I shook my head in disbelief. "No way! Well, congratulations. When did you pop the question?"  
  
He handed me the drink. "A couple months ago. I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn't have an owl handy. So…"  
  
"Yeah?" I encouraged him, taking a sip and watching him pace. The bump, thump, and bang of the bus made him lurch about. He clenched his fists behind his back, his eyebrows still drawn together. Now that his acne had cleared up, everyone could notice his sharp, deep blue eyes and strong, masculine jaw. Aurora had been easily drawn to him. Obviously, now that they were marrying and all.  
  
"Well, Harry... I was wondering: do you want to be my best man?"  
  
The hot chocolate squirted out of my mouth. Mopping it up with a corner of the sheet, I stared at him incredulously. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, don't you have a brother or a cousin or something?" Or a best friend? I thought to myself.  
  
He shrugged. "My family and I aren't very close. It's a long, boring story. Will you do it?"  
  
I nodded, grinning. "Sure, man. Just, you know, tell me when and stuff. When you figure out all the details or whatever." He smiled back easily, obviously relieved.  
  
"Oh, well, Rory's got a cousin in the States she wants to be her Maid of Honor, so we'll have the wedding over there probably. I'll have her send you all the info. It won't be for another couple of months. Rory wants a Christmas wedding." He stood up. "Well, it looks like we've got another couple of stops to make. Diagon Alley, is it, Harry?" At my nod, he started to walk up the aisle. "Good talking to you, Potter."  
  
"You too, Stan." I stared up at the ceiling, folding my hands behind my head. There were going to be so many changes this year. Everyone was growing up. Stan… me… what was my last year of school going to be like? It's not like I hadn't contemplated this for hours before. But now... well, I was really getting down to the nitty gritty. In a matter of days, I would officially be in my Seventh Year at Hogwarts.  
  
My eyes were heavy when I finally was able to lift my feet and get my shoes off, placing them besides the bed. And then I dropped off into a relaxing, deep sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
When Stan woke me up, the bus was idling outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Ernie smiled at me tiredly as I got off the bus, lugging my trunk behind me. He was older now, and had been struggling with disease. He'd had a constant cold recently. As a coughing fit racked him, he choked out, "Have fun this year Harry. It's been good all these times on the Knight Bus. I'll miss you, kid." I grinned at him, giving my old pal a firm farewell handshake.  
  
Glancing over my shoulder as I got off the bus, I jutted my chin at Stan. "Good luck, man, in marriage."  
  
He smiled wearily. "I'll need it." I watched the two of them, the most unlikely pair you'd ever see, pull the door close and speed off. A couple seconds later there was a loud pop and the bus disappeared into thin air. Shaking my head, I turned my back to the street. And stared at the faded sign swinging above the all-too-familiar doorway.  
  
I took a deep breath and entered the Leaky Cauldron.  



	2. Forever Cho

Staring into the mirror above the chest of drawers, I ran a comb through my hair again. It did nothing, of course. A comb hadn't helped me for the seventeen years I'd walked this earth, the seventeen years I'd had to endure this mop of tangled, shaggy black hair. The only thing that had stopped me from shaving it all off was Cho. She'd once told me she liked to run her fingers through it when I feel asleep with my head on her shoulder.  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't think about Cho now. The pain was still too fresh, the wound too deep. Thinking about her dancing black eyes, so filled with life and laughter, would be like rubbing salt into a cut. No, make that a bloody gash  
  
But I couldn't stop the images from flooding back. Cho staring at me, her eyes filled with as much love as she must have seen in my gaze. Cho standing close to me as we danced, the last time I would ever hold her close. The last time I would smell the jasmine in her hair. I laughed bitterly as I remembered how much I had promised I would always protect her. I hadn't been able to protect her that rainy night last year.  
  
I stopped myself before I started to sob. Before I fell into that deep hole of depression I'd been living in for months.  
  
I glanced into the mirror again. Startlingly clear, infinitely deep emerald eyes stared back at me. I was stunned, until I realized they were my own. Even then, I was still a little shocked. I took a step away from the mirror, always my enemy. It showed me just how much I had had to mature in the past couple of years.  
  
I ran my hand over my narrow cheeks, across my smooth forehead, until my fingers stopped at the burning lightening scar. It was hot to the touch, and glowing the dull red of a chunk of coal. It always hurt now. Always ached. I had grown used to it.  
  
I buttoned the top of my shirt and smoothed my hands down the sides of my khakis. I'd been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple days. Now I was packing up my stuff to head off to King's Cross Station as an official seventeen-year-old. I grabbed my trunk and pulled it towards the front of the tiny pub, waving at Tom as I exited quickly.  
  
He beamed at my back as I let the door slam shut behind me. I shook my head, straightening for a second as motioned for a taxi. That Tom, goofy old man and still going strong. I'd always admired him.  
  
The taxi pulled up next to the curb and the driver rolled down his window. "Need help, Sir?" he grunted. I eyed his beer belly.  
  
"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though," I nodded politely as he popped the trunk and I loaded the bulky luggage into the back. When that was done, I climbed into the backseat and leaned back, closing my eyes. "King's Cross Station, please."  
  
"Not a problem," the man licked his lips, his beady eyes shooting from side to side, and shot into traffic.  
  
I sat, exhausted, as I thought back on all I had done in the past couple of days. I'd had to do my school shopping, buy new robes (another growth spurt), take some of my money from my dwindling bank account at Gringotts, set up my own checking account where I had deposited some money I'd earned from my job over the summer, and finish my homework. The last one had been the hardest: apparently a lot of the teachers felt the need to pile on homework since they were only going to see us for one more year.  
  
Before I knew it, the taxi had stopped. I opened my eyes wearily and got out of the car, thanking the driver and paying him. He eyed me curiously, taking in my exhausted appearance, before starting to roll up the window.  
  
I'd started to turn away when his voice stopped me. It was oddly gentle. "Are you sure you should be traveling, Sir?" Again that "Sir". I winced, rubbing my temples.  
  
"It's all right. Thank you," I answered him.  
  
"Well, Sir, feel better. Good luck," he started to roll the window up again.  
  
"Wait," I called out. He stopped and stared at me. I sighed and turned away. "It's… nothing. Just- well, I'm not a Sir." My voice cracked on the last part. He nodded knowingly.  
  
"I'm sorry, kid. I see a lot of 'em like you. Life finally catching up to you, eh? Well, good luck. At school, your job, with your girl, whatever. Just remember to take deep breaths every once in awhile, okay?" he said, nodding, and broke into a toothy grin. "Bye now."  
  
I swallowed, lifting my hand in a farewell. I didn't take my eyes off the ground as the taxi sped off. Cars beeped and honked around me, a lone teenager swaying in the middle of the street. Who was I trying to kid? My throbbing headache hadn't been due to lack of sleep. In fact, over the summer, and recently at the Leaky Cauldron, I'd gone a lot of rest. More than usual.  
  
It was… due to… Cho. Again, she entered my thoughts. I couldn't get rid of her this time. The way we'd parted- the way she'd left me… it was so much more than I could handle. She'd taken my heart with her. And I didn't mind, because it would never belong to anyone else anyway.  
  
A blaring car horn drew my attention to the present. Again, I sighed. I was doing a lot of that lately. Famous Harry Potter… spending his time pining over lost love. Draco would have gotten a kick out of that- except for the simple fact that I hadn't seem him for over a year. Ah, the pleasure and remorse of a world at war with the forces of Evil. I never had liked him much anyway.  
  
I stepped up onto the platforms and headed, robot like, toward my usual position. Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It would be one of the last times I disappeared through that "solid" wall.  
  
Fast, worried thoughts took over my mind, temporarily pushing Cho to the side. Not to the back. Never to the back. What would Hermione and Ron say? I hadn't returned their mail or telephone calls. They could very well be incredibly upset with me. Or they might not even notice. Both had spent their entire summer with each other, so what did it matter if strong and silent Harry weren't around? Not much, now that they'd discovered their true loves. Each other. And not since I'd turned broody and depressive.  
  
I leaned against the barrier stiffly, almost not wanting to fall backwards. I wanted to remain here, in this unknowing world, where Harry Potter wasn't a household name and nothing was required of me. Where I wasn't expected to give up everything I ever loved just because people I had never met before were in danger of dying.  
  
But I did lean back, because regardless of my rebel spirit, I loved Dumbledore and Hogwarts and Hermione and Ron, and I couldn't give it up no matter how hard I tried. The familiar falling feeling. Like the bottom had just dropped out from under me. Yeah, yeah, I was used to that. Now when I turn around…  
  
But when I turned around, I wasn't staring at a scarlet steam engine lit by sunny beams of light. The chattering of so many students didn't fill my ears.  
  
I was staring at a beautiful girl, sitting on a bedroom floor, her face lit by the flickering of dozens of candles. Her lips moved silently as she recited verse from a heavy, leather-bound book in her hands.  
  
She looked up at me, and huge, round chocolate eyes pierced mine as the book fell from her hands. "Hello?" she asked.  
  
And only then did I realize I wasn't in London anymore.  



	3. When Harry Met Charlie

"Hello?" the girl repeated again, her huge eyes widening. "Who are you? Did my mom send you down here without telling me?" She paused to roll her eyes. "I could kill her, really. Well, lemme put out these candles."  
  
I was still standing stock-still, my mouth gaping open. Dizzying thoughts whirled through my mind at a breakneck speed. Who was this girl? And- hmm- what did she mean by she could kill her mom? Was this some sort of Dark Wizard? And if so, how had I gotten here? Had Voldemort finally come up with a way to get me?  
  
My mouth snapped close, and then fell open again like a silently gasping fish. That must be what I reminded her of, because she burst out laughing as she reached over to blow out three candles lined up on the shelf above her bed. Her fitted black Linkin Park T-shirt slid up her smooth stomach to reveal a pierced belly button.  
  
"Where- where am I?" I demanded bravely, backing up against the wall, drawing my eyes back up to her face. I had to watch her every move.  
  
She rolled her eyes again, blowing out yet another huddle of elegantly embossed rolled candles. "220 West Pottle, dear. Like you didn't already know that. Now come on- what are you trying to pull? Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"  
  
"What's... what's a 220 West Pottle? Or where is it?" I eyed the open doorway. If I wanted to, I could make a run for it... but that might not be smart- I had no clue where I was, and I'd probably get lost...  
  
She sighed, exasperated. "That's my address, you nutcase. Now you're starting to really tick me off. Just answer my questions, please."  
  
I clenched my jaw. This girl was making me angry. Something extremely evil had just happened to me and she expected me to just sit around, meek and timid, and tell her whatever she wanted to know? Uh-uh, no way. Harry Potter didn't have a lightening bolt-shaped on his forehead for nothing. "Excuse me," I started off politely. "Would you like to explain to me what just happened? Who are you working for? Please answer some of my questions first."  
  
The oddest, most unreadable look crossed over her face. "Excuse me? 'What just happened?' I didn't do anything to you, Mister Mystery. I was just sitting here, reading some Poe, and- poof!- some freaky guy is standing in my bedroom doorway. Any normal girl would be screaming 'rape' by now, but I'm not some air-headed nitwit, thank you very much-" She was gesturing about, talking a mile a minute, the bracelets on her left hand clinking furiously.  
  
"Okay, okay, I get the picture," I said, holding up a hand. She stopped abruptly, still staring at me with that puzzled, odd expression. I rubbed my hand against my scar, a habit that I'd picked up lately. It reminded me that I had to stay alert and brave at all times, because I never knew what was going to happen in this messed-up world anymore. I sighed. "So you're just as confused as I am?"  
  
"More so."  
  
"Hmm... I have a hard time believing that," I answered wryly.  
  
She gave me a smirk. "I don't. So, who are you?"  
  
I stared at her, amazed. "You really haven't figured it out yet?"  
  
She started to grin. "Oh, wait. I get it. Are you some sort of celebrity or movie star? I did apply for that Win a Date with the Mystery Man contest. Did I win? Are you going to whisk me away to some expensive Italian restaurant now?"  
  
I shook my head. This was getting weirder every second. Who was this girl? How did she not recognize me? Finally, I looked up at her. Staring straight into her eyes, I slowly shook my head. "Sorry, I've got no idea what you're talking about. Does the name Potter ring a bell?"  
  
She closed her eyes briefly and I noticed the perfect half moons her thick lashes made on her cheeks. "Potter... Potter... nope, sorry. Is it someone from school?"  
  
I shook my head again, rejecting the idea. School? I'd first noticed when I fell into this place that she didn't have a British accent. It was unusual all right, preppy and chipper, with a slight twang to it. If I weren't mistaken, she spoke like an American. "Excuse me, are you from the United States?"  
  
She burst out laughing. "From the United States? Honey, I live in the United States. If you haven't noticed, that's where you are, deep in the heart of St. Louis, Missouri."  
  
I groaned and slumped against the wall. St. Louis, Missouri. United States. This was getting better every minute. I began to pace, going over everything that had happened to me and that I knew. 1.) I had somehow been transported to this girl's bedroom instead of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. 2.) I was at 220. West Pottle, St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States of America. 3.) Voldemort may somehow be after me, or this might all be one big accident. 4.) I didn't know very much.  
  
"Well, we might as well be properly introduced," the girl said, shrugging, her very long brown hair sliding over one shoulder. She offered her hand to me. "Hi. My name's Charlie. Charlie Becker. And you?"  
  
I stared at her hand as if it were some foreign object. Though her nails were bitten and ragged, her fingers were long and slender, the skin of her palm, wrist, and the back of her hand smooth and taut. Five silver bracelets slid down her arm, clinking gently. A silver ring coiled around her thumb, a small green stone set deeply into the center. Finally, I shook my head slightly, clearing some of the quick, flitting thoughts. Glancing up at her, I smiled crookedly. "Sorry. I'm sorta confused. My name's Harry Potter."  
  
We gripped hands firmly. Her palm was cool and dry, and she had a confident grasp. As I stared into her huge, round eyes, my stomach jumped slightly. How could I trust this girl? Who was she... and what was I doing here? How would I get myself out of this mess? A shock of some indescribable emotion raced through me as I let go of Charlie's hand. I pushed it down, not allowing myself to recognize the true nature of this sensation.  
  
A small smile broke out on her face. "Well," she said, blowing out the last of the candles, which was hunched on a small stool near our knees. We were now encased in shadowy darkness. "Let's go. I guess I'll show you around. Feel free to explain at any time."  
  
She exited the room, brushing past me. I stood thoughtfully for a second, staring at the shiny head of hair bobbing off down the hallway. I sighed. "You too," I mumbled bleakly. "You too." There was no other choice now. If Voldemort had me, than he had me. I didn't even know if I cared anymore. Oh well. Quick, rash decisions was a special of mine.  
  
And I followed Charlie into the hall.  



	4. Becker's Bed and Breakfast

"-and this is my mom's office. You better not go in there, not only is it really messy, but she hates it when people invade her privacy." Charlie rolled her eyes and smiled that saucy grin I'd seen on her face a lot in the brief time I'd known her. "But I love her. Is she the one that let you in?"  
  
I shook my head silently, mulling over some conclusions that I'd come to. First of all, Charlie seemed innocent enough. She didn't appear to know anything was going on. I'd also figured out that she was a lot sweeter than she looked. Though she put on a tough, rebel, I'm-an-individual-and-you-can't-stop-me front, she was kind-hearted and sensitive.  
  
And she was also very gorgeous. A long, thick curtain of shiny, straight brown hair fell down her back and huge, piercing eyes, deep, wise, and warm with intelligence and spirit were the first things a person noticed when they looked at her. But she also had a unique smile with straight white teeth and full lips. Everything about her was narrow and thin: her torso, her legs, her arms, even her nose. It all fit perfectly together.  
  
Cho was the one who had taught me how to appreciate a person for how their appearance reflected who they really were. She used to say a person that was worth getting to know was someone that wasn't afraid to dress and look however they wanted to. Those were the ones with an amazing personality. Cho was a perfect example of that.  
  
Charlie was wearing a black T-shirt over a white silk one, and the slinky fabric peeked out at the collar, sleeves, and waist. Baggy brown tunnel pants with gold lining rode low on her hips, and mismatched socks (one gray, one white with a red stripe across the toes) covered her feet. The T-shirt was interesting: white block letters across the front read "Linkin Park", and they were faded from too many washes, meaning she'd gotten good wear out of it. Silver bracelets, the antique ring, a long cross, and a linked chain were her only jewelry.  
  
I noticed details.  
  
"One of our bedrooms is empty, so you can stay in it. But you'd have to pay," she explained, leading me into the kitchen we'd just exited from and plopping down on a small window seat.  
  
"Pardon me, what was that?" I asked, following her obediently and sitting opposite her on the tiny padded bench. "Pay?"  
  
"We run Becker's Bed and Breakfast here. I thought you would know, since the sign's right at the end of our driveway. That's why you came here, isn't it? To get a room for the night?" she explained curiously. "That's what I figured when I was showing you around…"  
  
A sudden idea began formulating itself in my head. "Oh yes, that's right. Sorry. How much will that be?" I asked, reaching for my wallet. I always carried a wad of Muggle cash and some traveler's checks with me just in case.  
  
"Um… about 37 dollars, I think. A single bed, right? No wife?" she smiled teasingly, standing up.  
  
I smiled up at her, a little sadly. "No, no wife." Not even a chance of one anymore. We locked eyes for a second, and I could tell she read the depth of pain in my stare. Quickly I broke eye contact, ripped a check out of the small booklet and filled it out. I signed with a flourish and handed it to her. Our fingers brushed slightly, and I jerked back.  
  
It was silent while she carefully folded the check in half and tucked it into a large pocket in the back of her huge, worn pants. Then she folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the table, and stared at me, her eyes piercing right through me. Strangely, I felt she could read my mind.  
  
Something that no one but Cho had ever been able to do.  
  
"So. Mr. Potter. Tell me about yourself," she demanded gently, still prodding me carefully with her gaze.  
  
I averted my eyes to a water color painting on the wall. "That's really good," I blurted as I studied it carefully, standing up and moving closer to the smooth wooden-paneled wall, where the picture was hanging behind glass. "Do you know the artist?"  
  
"Yeah. She's a local," Charlie smirked again, a trademark I was starting to get used to.  
  
"Really? Who?" I asked. The artist had blended the colors well, and the sunrise cleverly faded from orange to deep purple. "That's… really good, better than good, it's gallery work."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"What?" I spun to face her, starting to smile in surprise. "You…"  
  
"Yep," she said, smiling back and tilting her head to the side. Her hair again slid over her shoulder. I quickly looked back to her face. "I'm an artist, in more ways than one."  
  
"That's so cool," I complimented, stuffing my hands in my back pockets. I couldn't think of anything to say. I'd never been that gifted with my hands. I had some common sense, logic, and street smarts, but they didn't do for good conversation with someone who could paint like that.  
  
We stood silently for a short minute, listening uncomfortably to the clock tick. Finally, she broke the silence by clapping her hands. "Well! Now that you've paid I can officially show you to your room. It's upstairs, next to mine, if you'll follow me…" and she moved off down the hallway.  
  
I followed her, still going over the idea I'd quickly come up with. Since she didn't have a clue to who I was, I would stay at this small, out of the way Bed and Breakfast until I could move to a more secure environment. Tomorrow, using an Out of Country Owl, I would contact Dumbledore to see what was going on immediately. And then, I assumed, lie low.  
  
She pushed open the door in the darkened hallway we had left about a half-hour ago. Inside, the room looked basically like hers, except it didn't have a personal touch to it. The bed was a high brass queen-size, and a huge stone fireplace lurked in the corner of the room. On the mantelpiece were a large grandfather clock and some family pictures in pale wooden frames. A window seat was next to the fireplace, and a warm afghan was folded on top of the faded velvet padding. A small pillow sagged against the plate of glass. The room was cold, but the bed was piled high with fluffy, thick pillows and a seemingly hand-stitched quilt. A rocking chair creaked slightly in another corner, caught by a small, flickering draft.  
  
"Where's that door lead to?" I asked, pointing to the object in question.  
  
She gave me a half-smile. "I regret to inform you that from this moment until you leave, you have to share a bathroom with me." She shrugged, shoving her hands into her back pockets and rocking forward slightly. "I'm not that bad: at least I don't leave wet towels lying around or junk on the countertops like some guests. But my mom says I stay in the shower too long. And use up all the hot water." Again, the relaxed shrug. "I'm sorry if it bothers you."  
  
"Oh know, definitely not," I waved the apology away. "Thank you, though. I don't mind when a person takes a long shower. I know how it can get when you've had a rough day and you just need to unwind or cool off. Trust me on that."  
  
"Okay, I will," she said cockily. Then, moving towards the door of the room, she said, "So, are you settled? You don't have any bags with you. Do you need some clothes? There should be some generic stuff in the dresser or wardrobe." At this, she pointed to the tall, shiny oak piece of furniture that stood on the other side of the fireplace.  
  
I smiled warmly, relieved that this quaint little home hadn't converted to modern, impersonal ways of life. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without you. You're the first place I've passed that has room for me."  
  
"That's odd. It's the end of tourist season. Maybe there's some sort of convention going on downtown. Anyway, we don't have any other guests. If you're looking for excitement, I don't think you're in the right place," she said, opening the door.  
  
"I've had enough excitement for quite a while, thank you," I answered tiredly, plopping down on the bed and taking off my shoes. "I believe a short nap would do me some good right now. Can I ask you a favor? Will you wake me up for lunch?"  
  
"Oh, of course," she answered. As I tugged the sheets and quilt down, she still didn't leave. Finally, I looked back up at her. She studied me curiously. "You know what, Harry? I'm getting some kind of vibe around you. I don't know what it is yet, but I'll figure it out. You seem to have been through some tough times. I hope you do okay in the world."  
  
"I try my best," was the last phrase I remembered uttering before I was as dead to the world as a fat cat sunning itself on a warm summer day.  



	5. Till Wednesday

When Charlie shook me awake, I sat up in bed hurriedly, my heart pounding. She leaned over me, that hair of hers falling across my shoulder. "What's wrong?" she said gently, and I could read sincere concern in the furrowed eyebrows and creased forehead.   
  
"Nothing," I mumbled sleepily, rolling over. "Why'dja wake me up?"  
  
She laughed. "Harry Potter! You told me to wake you up for lunch. Now let's go."  
  
"No, no, lemme sleep for a couple more minutes," I mumbled into the pile of pillows beneath my head.  
  
She gave a harrassed sigh. "C'mon, up and at 'em." And with that, she climbed onto the bed and stood above me.  
  
I stared up at her incredulously. "What are you doing?" I yelped as she started to jump. Soon the bed was screeching and rolling, and the mattress was bouncing high on its box springs. I couldn't help it. I started to chuckle.  
  
Soon we were both laughing until we had to clutch our sides. But yet she didn't stop bouncing; the bed was still bucking and shaking. "Okay, I'm awake now," I gasped, holding tightly to the sides.  
  
She jumped lightly to the floor. "Then let's go. You can help me with lunch."  
  
I shook my head in amazement. Charlie was one unique girl. Her methods were orthodox, but yet… they worked. I followed her again from the room, tagging along behind her as we walked down the hallway and the stairs, through the dining room to the warm, homely kitchen.  
  
I don't know why I'd felt the urge to sleep. I'd just gotten up a few hours earlier. At this moment right now, I would have been on the Hogwarts Express, speeding along the countryside to Hogsmeade, and it wasn't likely that I would have been asleep. I'd probably have been eating Cauldron Cakes and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Jellybeans and chocolate frogs with Ron and Hermione, trading summer stories. A felt a pang of nostalgia as I remembered my two best friends. I hadn't realized how much I missed them until now.  
  
Why had I slept so much though? Maybe all the pressure and stress had finally caught up with me… but I couldn't be sure. I just didn't know. Just like I didn't yet know what was going on with this Platform Nine and Three Quarters incident.  
  
As we puttered about the kitchen, pulling out white bread, lunch meats, cheese, and other miscellaneous sandwich fixings, I asked timidly, "Charlie, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She shook her head as she concentrated on spreading mayonnaise thickly on a slice of bread.  
  
I just needed to find out some more information on the subject. "Have you ever been to England?"  
  
"No," she sighed. "But I wish I could visit there sometime."  
  
"Do you know anyone there?"  
  
"Yes," she shrugged. "A distant cousin. We're pretty good friends through snail mail, though I haven't seen her since I was small. She's pretty young, a couple years older than me."  
  
"Ah," I breathed, going to stand next to her by the counter. I pressed a piece of cheese into the spreading. "Are you a Muggle?"  
  
She gave me a sidelong glance and edged slightly away. "What's that? Some foreign slang term?"  
  
"How did you know I was a foreigner?" I questioned immediately, jumping on her last statement.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "For Pete's sake. I could tell you were from Britain since I first met you. Your accent is so sophisticated; crisp; precise." She gave her legendary shrug. "Besides, you don't have the typical cocky slump of an American boy. You, I don't know, glide. Almost aristocratic."  
  
I glowered at her. "And is that a good thing or a bad thing?"  
  
She stared at me for a long second. Finally, she just shook her head slowly and reached for a cabinet above our heads. As she rooted through it, I again noticed the belly button in her tan stomach. I colored a little bit and busied myself with ripping off some paper towels and taking the sandwiches to the kitchen table. She spoke up as she pulled out two matching light blue plastic plates and tall glasses. "No. It's not a bad thing. I was trying to compliment you. You can get all huffy about it if you wish."  
  
I immediately felt guilty. Charlie Becker had been nothing but nice to me ever since I fell into her bedroom, and she'd even put up with my frustrating confusion. How could I have accused her of insulting me? "I'm sorry. I just run into a lot of Americans that assume that the British are 'bad'. That we're snobby or arrogant. But we're not."  
  
She placed the sandwiches on the plates and dumped some chips next to them. Then she filled up our glasses with lemonade and sat down next to me at the table. Finally, she turned to look at me with a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. "I'm not like most people."  
  
I gave her my trademark smile: a disheveled, crooked grin. "I think I've already figured that out."  
  
"So," she said as she munched on the chips. "Do you have anything planned for your stay in St. Louis?"  
  
I shook my head as I took a gigantic bite out of my sandwich. I hadn't had anything for breakfast this morning, expecting a huge feast of treats on the train. "No," I said through a full mouth. "Do you suggest anything?"  
  
"Heck ya!" she yelped, bouncing in her seat. She gave me a huge, genuine smile. "I know all of the best hot spots downtown, seeing as how I've lived here my entire life. We'll pick a day and I'll show you around all the regular tourist attractions, but then that night we'll go see what the Lou's life is really like."  
  
"The Lou?"  
  
"Forget it."  
  
Excitement began to brew slowly in me. That sounded like a lot of fun. More than a lot: the most I'd had in the longest time. A grin began to grow on my face until I was smiling as large as she was. "That sounds like a really good idea," I choked out through my happiness. It wasn't just the fact that I couldn't wait to have some real fun; it was that I would be with Charlie. She seemed like such a great person: sharp and funny and unique. I was overwhelmed to have her as a new friend.  
  
"So what day should we plan it for?" she asked, finished off her sandwich.  
  
"Doesn't matter to me. Whatever's good for you," I answered.  
  
"Tomorrow okay? My two best friends are on vacation, and my mom's still in Chicago at some sort of bed and breakfast equipment convention. None of them will be back till this weekend. We have three full days all to ourselves here," she explained, picking up our dirty dishes and taking them to the sink. She rinsed them off and set them in the dishwasher. "How bout it?"  
  
Those three words reverberated in my head for a few seconds. Did I want to? Risk letting down my guard for this amazing girl I'd just met? Then suddenly a pang of guilt shot through me. Cho. My Cho. Gone now. How could I go out and have carefree fun when…  
  
And then another thought spun through my head. Tomorrow I had a lot of work to do. I had to not only send an owl to Dumbledore, but I had to do some research and try to get a hold of Ron, Hermione, or Sirius. The next day was shot because of how long even Out of Country Owls took. Disappointment coursed through me as I shook my head reluctantly. "Sorry, Charlie. Can't do it tomorrow. I've got some work I've got to get done."  
  
"That's fine. How about Wednesday, then?" she said, glancing over her shoulder from the sink.  
  
"Sounds good to me," I replied, watching her as she started the dishwasher which was now filled with other dirty odds and ends. She moved so gracefully.  
  
"Until Wednesday, then?"  
  
"Wednesday it is."  



	6. Of Innocence and Maturity

Tuesday morning, I woke up refreshed and clear-headed. It appeared that I'd finally gotten a good enough sleep the night before. Right away, this put me into a good mood. For the past couple of months, I'd been sleepy and crabby in the morning. Now I whistled off-key as I prepared for my shower.  
  
Pulling open one of the drawers in the wardrobe, I leafed through the clothes. Selecting a pair of loose gray trousers, a white undershirt, and a white button down shirt, I piled a towel on top of the small stack I'd placed on the rocking chair. Pulling my wand out from underneath the pillow where I'd tucked it the night before (I always carried it with me now, and yesterday I'd had it hidden under my shirt tucked into the waistband of my pants), I gave a discreet flick. New pairs of comfy boxers and socks were suddenly on top of the pile.  
  
The shower from the bathroom turned off. I could hear the squeak of the shower curtain being pulled back. I knocked on the door. "Charlie? Are you out?"  
  
"Yes," she answered lightly. I guess she was chipper in the mornings too. "Just one minute, please."  
  
A second later, she told me I could come in. I opened the door and a billow of steam flooded out. I smiled into the damp air. "Leave me any hot water?"  
  
"Some," was her retort from behind the closed bedroom door. I laughed silently as I prepared for my shower. After I was finished, I toweled off, dressed, and shaved quickly with a kit Charlie must have left out for me.  
  
I tossed my towel into the hamper and left the bathroom. Now for the real work to do. Hanging the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside of my bedroom door, I pointed my wand at the antique escritoire. With a pop, a long roll of parchment, a simple eagle quill, and a pot of ink appeared in thin air.  
  
I sat down to begin the letter I knew I had to deliver to Professor Dumbledore. It took me an hour, but at last my final copy was ready. I set down my quill and leaned back, massaging my hand. Perching on the back two legs, I rubbed at the crick in my neck. My eyes watered and I was hungry. But at least the letter was finished now.  
  
Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
  
Hello. I am writing this letter in regards to the recent goings-on at King's Cross Station in London yesterday. I'm sure you've heard by now, but somehow I am unable to get back to Hogwarts. While trying to enter Platform Nine and Three Quarters by way of the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten, I did not fall onto the aforementioned site. Somehow, though I am unable to explain, I am residing at Becker's Bed and Breakfast at 220 West Pottle, St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States. I happened to be transported to the doorway of Charlie Becker's bedroom.  
  
I am sorry if this has caused you any recent inconvenience. If you know anything about the situation, or if you can somehow help me out of this mess, I'd greatly appreciate it. As of now, I believe I can trust Charlie, but I will take it carefully as I have in the past. I regret to say that I am somewhat puzzled and worried about these events.  
  
You can send your reply using my Express Out of Country Owl. I would like it as soon as possible.  
  
Thank you,  
  
Harry  
  
I smiled as I folded the letter carefully and tied it around Lightening, the owl I'd conjured to send to Dumbledore. It would take a couple hours, but he should receive it before noon. I'd been thrilled when I read the nameplate embedded into the leg of the sandy-colored owl. Lightening. That had to be a good omen.  
  
I briefly touched my scar and my eyes fluttered shut. It was the weirdest thing: ever since I'd shown up in America, it hadn't hurt. A very slight ache, yes, but not the usual burning throb I'd gotten used to. I knew better than to expect that something had happened to Voldemort: ever since his rise of power three years ago, he'd been steadily gaining strength, wreaking havoc wherever he went.  
  
I knew that first hand.  
  
But something odd was going on here. It wasn't just an accident that Charlie and I had met. Someone had wanted it to happen. Someone had made it happen. And I had to find out whether this someone was my ally or my nemesis. It was a matter of my life… and probably many others.  
  
Rubbing my eyes, I sighed and let Lightening out the window. And then I sat down to write another letter, this one a three-way copy to Hermione, Ron, and Sirius. When I was finished with it, I read over it quickly and conjured up three more owls to send the letter.  
  
Dear Hermione, Ron, and Sirius,  
  
I'm sorry that I wasn't on the Hogwarts Express. I don't know how to explain, because I myself have no clue what's going on. I am currently spending the night at Becker's Bed and Breakfast in St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States. The teenager that is running the place is named Charlie Becker, whom I believe I can trust.  
  
No, I do not know if this has anything to do with Voldemort, Ron. Hermione, yes, I will find a library as soon as possible and use the Internet access there to look in the Daily Prophet newspaper online articles. And Sirius: please don't worry. I am equipped with my wand (however, nothing else) and should be fine for the time being.  
  
To put you more at ease, I have sent an Out of Country Owl to Dumbledore. If you are concerned, I would like it if you would talk to him about it. I'm sure he'll comfort and reassure you. You can trust me, and I believe I can trust Charlie.  
  
I love you all, and I hope to be at Hogwarts soon. I already miss it.  
  
Love,  
  
Harry  
  
When I was finished rewriting the letter a final time (ink blots were so messy and annoying… one of the few things I regretted about being a wizard), I tied the rolled parchment to the three owls' legs. Then I discreetly let them out the window. If Charlie saw me doing that, I wasn't sure what my explanation would be.  
  
I glanced at the bedside clock. 10:25. I still had a couple hours before I would get a reply from any of the parties I'd sent those letters to. What would I do? It made me nervous just thinking about all the tragedies that could be going on at that very moment.  
  
I busied myself with cleaning up for a few minutes. That didn't take long. All I had to do was make the bed, sweep the extra parchment, quill, and bottle of ink into an extra pillowcase I'd found, and tuck that into a drawer. I wondered around the room, admiring the paintings and pictures on the wall. On the mantelpiece, one frame depicted a young girl with long dark hair swinging from a tire on a tree. She looked so happy and innocent… the child's round eyes captured the camera. It had to be Charlie.  
  
Had I ever been that innocent? I thought warily to myself. Maybe when I was a young child, pre-teenage years. Before knowing I was a wizard, for sure. Of course I'd gotten tormented by my bully of a cousin Dudley, but that didn't really toughen a person up. Even at my first two years at Hogwarts, I was quite immature.  
  
It wasn't until the Dementors that I started to grow up, I finally decided, still pacing absently in front of the window. The shuffle of my feet faded out as I remembered what had been so awful about that year. The wailing of my Mum filled my ears. I winced, stopping in my tracks.  
  
Four years later, I still wanted to cry out as I experienced the pain of hearing my Mum's voice for the first time. Her pleading, her begging… the way she screamed in fear when she realized she was going to die… the racking, uncontrollable sobs for her dead husband and her too-near-death baby…  
  
And then, my fourth year. That more than anything had been the biggest blow to my childhood. Witnessing Cedric die, so mercilessly. It wasn't possible to imagine the pain I'd felt. I hadn't known him that long, but to see another human being die right before you… it was like a bond, a delicate strand connecting the two of you as humans, being mutilated. Severed, right in front of you. And Voldemort being the one to do it… the one who had killed the two most important people in your life… it only added insult to injury. Which was, of course, the biggest understatement of the history of the universe.  
  
I gasped, and everything rushed back into focus. I shook my head, widening my eyes and concentrating on staring straight in front of me. I could not let that happen to me again. It was too painful, more painful than I realized. It made me lose my focus. I couldn't concentrate. Narrowing my eyes, I stared hard at the pillow on my bed. Using my magic, I flicked my finger upward, and the object rose quickly.  
  
Sighing with relief, I dropped it back down softly. That had been close. I'd almost let go of my feelings, and when I did that, I lost complete control. And that was the worst thing that could happen to a wizard.  
  
Again, I sighed, my heart rate slowing. That really had been too close. It was still too soon to think about my mother or Cedric… I doubted it would ever stop being too soon…  
  
A light knock on the door. I fell backward onto the bed, exhausted from my near fatal attempt to take my mind off things. "Come in."  
  
Charlie walked in. Great Wizards, was I glad she was here. I could concentrate on her instead of the bleak, depressing thought of my maturity. She eyed me curiously. "I thought you had work to do."  
  
"I do," I answered her, staring at the ceiling. "I've got to wait a little bit for something. Then I'm off to the library to do some research there. I'll need you to show me where it is if you wouldn't mind."  
  
"That's fine. We'll eat lunch first. By the way, do you know how long you'll be here?" she asked as she sat down on the corner of my desk. I shook my head. "Oh. Well, see, I was thinking: there's a lot to do in St. Louis. A lot of places to go. We can't possibly cover them all in one day…"  
  
I sat up, smiling. "So we could spread it out over several days."  
  
She nodded vigorously. "Yeah, that's it. Okay. Here's the plan. Tomorrow morning, we'll go to the St. Louis Zoo. Then we'll head downtown and eat lunch at the riverfront. In the afternoon, we'll explore downtown. Then on Thursday, I figured we could go to the Botanical Gardens in the morning and some museums in the afternoon," she stopped to take a breath. "If you're here for any longer than that, there's tons of other places we can visit."  
  
"I'm sure there is. You should come to London some time," I rolled my eyes. "It's packed with history and stuff."  
  
She smiled slowly. My heart sped up oddly. "Maybe I will some time."  
  
We stared at each other silently for a few seconds. Something strange happened inside of me. I was scared. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Charlie was a Muggle, for crying out loud! She had no clue what was going on in the wizard world. I couldn't get close to her. It'd ruin her… it'd ruin both of us…  
  
I glanced at the clock, breaking eye contact. 11:20. Great Wizards, I'd been out of it before for longer than I thought. I looked back at Charlie. Something in her eyes made me sit up straighter. She slipped off the desk and started towards me.  
  
Suddenly, a frantic beating at the window stopped her in her tracks. She glanced toward the pane of glass. Starting, her eyes widened and she stumbled backward. "What is that?" she yelped.  
  
I looked up to see Lightening slapping his wings against the glass. He appeared frantic to get inside. "Oh man," was all I could mumble as I dropped my head into my hands. I had a lot of explaining to do.  



	7. No Emotion

"Well?" she demanded, her eyes flaming with anger. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but animals aren't allowed in our house. Is that your pet?"  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them quickly. Lightening was still beating at the window. I had to get to him before he flew away. I had to see that letter. But most of all, I had to make Charlie understand. I didn't like having her be mad at me. "Charlie… listen. It's not my pet. It's…" I started haltingly, standing up.  
  
She raised her eyebrows, slipping into manager mood. I couldn't stop a small smile from escaping onto my face. She'd make the perfect full-time owner of this place someday. "… it's a form of communication," I finally admitted. Glancing at the window, I licked my lips. "Can I please just let him in here for a minute?"  
  
"Form of communication?" she questioned, the look of anger melting from her features, replaced by utter confusion. "Wait, wait: why don't you just use email or letters like everyone else?"  
  
I shrugged. I'd already said more than I should have. Now she would be suspicious of me from now on. She's watch me carefully, and might notice odd little things that happen around me. She might start guessing… and though I doubted she would guess correctly, no guesses were better than wrong guesses.  
  
Finally she threw up her hands in exasperation. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?"  
  
I glanced at the floor, scuffing my boot across the smooth wood. Then I peeked up at her through my mess of bangs. "No, probably not."  
  
She laughed. "Fine. Go on. Let him in. But he stays outside from now on."  
  
"Of course, madam," I replied, hurrying to the window. Lightening still hadn't slowed his panicked beating. When I let him in, he immediately landed on my arm, jutting out his leg.  
  
I slipped the paper from around the thin ankle as I absently stroked the soft plummage. He hooted softly, nuzzling my shoulder. My heart beat harder as I tore the official Hogwarts seal on the envelope. My fingers trembled slightly, but I quickly steadied them, glancing at Charlie.  
  
She was staring at me with a soft look of amazement. "You're good with animals," she commented quietly. "I didn't realize they liked you so much."  
  
"What can I say?" I said, my eyes still focused on the thick parchment. "They flock to me."  
  
"I can tell."  
  
I tugged the letter from its pocket. Unfolding it slowly, I took a deep breath. Then I read the following:  
  
Mr. Potter:  
  
I assume this letter has reached you by way of my own Express Out of Country Owl. If it hasn't, I can only assume it has either fallen into the wrong hands, or your own owl has intercepted it.  
  
Here I glanced at Lightening for confirmation. He gave me a seemingly understanding nod and focused his wise eyes on the letter, as if to tell me to keep reading. I did.  
  
I'm sorry for the difficulties, fear, and confusion I'm sure you must have recently faced. We of the Hogwarts staff are aware of your current location. It was not a mistake that placed you there. Voldemort is on the move again, and we have reason to believe that he is headed toward Hogwarts. His motives are not yet clear, but it is a known fact that he is out to kill you, and if you are not to be found at Hogwarts, he will move on and search elsewhere. When that happens, you can be moved back here.  
  
This is for your own safety. I'm sure you don't see it as that, however. We knew that you would want to stay here to protect your friends and loved ones, so we didn't give you the option. It would only put yourself and everyone else in danger.  
  
If our owls have come in contact with each other, Alexis knew to exchange letters. At this exact same moment, I should be reading your note. Anyway, try to enjoy yourself while you're where you are. Don't worry about a thing. Everything is under control.  
  
Love and blessing,  
  
Professor Dumbledore and the Hogwarts faculty and staff  
  
I stared, open-mouthed at the letter in my hand. I couldn't believe it. I had known it would have something to do with Voldemort. I knew it. But why wouldn't Dumbledore let me come back? I needed to be there to protect my friends. They were all I had left.  
  
I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I couldn't believe this. Those teachers and administrators were taking this one step too far. They were shielding me, as if I didn't know what it felt like to be hurt. I did know. I couldn't believe this.  
  
How could they do this to me? I felt betrayed. So betrayed. I had to be there to protect them, and instead Dumbledore had me shuttled off into some foreign country. All alone. Far away from the people that really mattered. Didn't he realize that out here, where I could trust no one, it didn't matter whether Voldemort got me or not? If all I had were strangers, why would it matter if I were alive? Voldemort might as well come and get me.  
  
I felt like I was about to cry. But I bit the inside of my cheek and held in my tears. In a matter of seconds, I was under control. I sat up, staring straight ahead, feeling much more cool, calm, and aloof. Standing up abruptly, I moved to my desk. Charlie was in my way.  
  
I'd almost forgotten she was there. But the present came rushing to me when she spoke. "Harry? Tell me what's wrong."  
  
All I could do was stare at her. Swallowing, I glanced away. How I wanted to tell her. Relieve myself of this burden, share it with someone who wouldn't mind. But I couldn't. I couldn't, and I wouldn't. "Nothing, Charlie. Nothing's wrong. But I do have some work to do. When I'm ready, we can have lunch together. I'll… come and get you."  
  
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Okay, Harry. I can tell something's wrong. Why won't you tell me? What was in that letter?"  
  
I swiveled my head back around to her. Staring into her huge eyes, I blanched, but kept my cool. Charlie was so curiously beautiful… I could easily see myself slipping up and getting too close to her. But I couldn't. I couldn't trust her. I had to stay unattached from anyone here in St. Louis, seeing as how I would be going home at any time.  
  
I turned back around to stare out the window, my hands in my pockets. "Nothing of your concern. I don't even know you that well. Why would I busy you with governmental difficulties in Britain? Don't you have some sort of paperwork to do here? At this quaint Bed and Breakfast?"  
  
Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I winced. Not only was her eyes squinted tightly, but her jaw was jutted out and her knuckles, clenched to her leather-clad hips were beginning to whiten. She said to me, in a deathly low voice, "Thank you, Mr. Harry Potter. Thank you for messing with my mind and acting like a friend. Thank you for being so grateful when I let you stay here. And, last but not least, thank you for nothing."  
  
She spun around and stormed out of the room, her long thick hair whipping around her shoulders. I stared at her as she left, a lump in my throat. When the door was firmly closed (or, in this case, slammed), I walked carefully to the window, absently stroking Lightening, who was perched on the window frame. As I stared outside at the foliage creeping up the garden wall, I went over everything that had been said in my mind.  
  
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut, grinding them with the heel of my hand. "How could I treat her like that?" I whispered. But then I considered it. I couldn't get close to Charlie. I couldn't. Not only because of the fact that I would be leaving whenever Voldemort moved on. But because the last time I'd gotten close to someone… it had only ended in pain and depression…  
  
I moved to the desk to write a letter of confirmation to Dumbledore, that I had received his mail. I also included in it a brief expression of my outrage at the situation they'd forced me into. However, I didn't get too emotional.  
  
Never again would I let my emotions get in the way.  



	8. As Cleansing As Rain

As Cleansing as Rain

I sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs with air, and released it slowly.  I had to calm down.  I must.  If I didn't, I'd hyperventilate again, and that couldn't happen.  I wouldn't let it happen.  Too many attacks could send my blood pressure through the roof, and that could land me in the hospital again.  Somehow, someway, I had to calm myself down.

This was the first time I had to try it on my own.  Before, I always had my mom wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace, rocking me back and forth, both of us crouched together on the floor of my room.  This was the first time I didn't have her cool fingers smoothing my hair away from my forehead and behind my ears, her light blue eyes holding my gaze steadily while her love cleansed me of all the impure emotions crashing through my soul.

That boy, I thought furiously to myself as I stomped about, lighting candles angrily, my hands shaking with untamed fury.  That babbling, stupid boy!  So ignorant!  What an attitude problem… how could he say those things to me?  We had connected so well, and… then…

My eyes flashed, hard and impenetrable as stone.  I knew I was headed towards the deep end, and if I didn't make a visible effort to control my feelings, I was going to go flying off the diving board before I was ready.

I drew in a breath.  The candles on the plate I was squatting in front of flickered and leaned toward me, as if eagerly awaiting some terrific secret.  I smiled at that comparison.  Good, a smile!  That was a start.  I stared intensely at the flickering little yellow heads bobbing toward me, the little points of their flame like tiny mohawks.  I felt my heart slow down and my breathing even out.  There, that was better…

I eased my legs out from beneath me and turned so that I was sitting Indian-style in the middle of the room.  My bed rose above me to the left, pushed against two walls in a corner.  To my right was a bookcase, and I pulled out a thick volume of poetry that I didn't usually bother with.  It was a collection of obscure artists writing about joyful topics such as love, delight, appreciation, and the like.  Normally such work didn't appeal to my dramatic sense of doom when I was in a candle-lighting, poetry-reading, dark kind of mood.  But this book now compelled me; I needed some comfort and peace in my life right now before I tried to handle that boy again.

I cracked open the binding to some random page in the center.   Focusing on the words, I concentrated on making out the script in the wavering light. 

"And the wind rushes

The surf pounds

The rain drums

When I see him

The heat crackles more between us

Than between the logs in the fire

Electricity is a visible Presence

That can be cut like butter

His eyes as green as emeralds

Shining, burning with radiance

Mine as melted chocolate

Sinking slowly in his gaze"

Slowly, I set the book down and slid it away from me.  What kind of cruel, cold joke was the universe playing on me?  The first poem I opened up to, in a desperate search to forget about Harry, was so presumptuous as to blare out everything I had felt for him since I first laid eyes on him?  It was arrogant enough to remind me of how those stupid eyes had melted me from the first minute I looked into that British face?

"I'm talking crazy," I mumbled to myself, folding my arms loosely in my lap.  I stared morosely at the book of poetry, still open to those eerie words.  "Poems don't presume, they don't remind, and they're not arrogant…"

My long hair hung in front of my shoulders.  I pushed it roughly behind my ears and stood up, beginning to pace.  The candle flames followed my movements in flicks and whispers as I moved past them.  "Char, you're outta your mind.  You saw what happened to him when he read that letter.  Whatever was in it changed him.   He's mixed up in some crazy stuff, Char.  You don't wanna be a part of that—"

My face whipped up as I heard myself speak these words outloud.  Shaking the thought out of my head, I corrected myself outloud.  "Yes I do!  I do, though.  I want to be mixed up in it, with him…"

I sat down on my bed suddenly.  Amidst the wrinkled, mused bedding, I grimaced.  "Kid, you sound like a raving, lovesick school girl.  That Potter is cold.  Stuck up.  As unbreakable as ice…" my voice trailed off.  I knew that no amount of convincing was going to work.  I was a goner; I'd fallen for him.  There was no denying it.  First, it had just been pure attraction.  His incredible smile, narrow cheeks, and youthful, lively eyes.  That voice, so lilting and smooth.  But… it was more, after that.  Something had happened to him that made him vulnerable, but tough.  Something had hardened him, but left him defenseless.  It was a crazy and maddening circle with no conclusion, but yet, I _knew_ what it felt like because I was caught in the same circle.  I had experienced life on the edge, too… and I had come back from it to survive.

But how can you have survived when you haven't really been living? I argued to myself.  Sure, you go through the motions.  School, work, painting, reading your poetry… hanging out with Kaye and Jodi.  But what is it, really, when you haven't felt life flowing through your veins for the longest time?  When you haven't felt that same thrill you used to get when you would paint…

I flopped back onto my bed, thinking over all these things carefully.  I turned each new thought around and around in my head until it was as smooth and polished as glass.  I tried to make sense of each of them, but I couldn't.  Harry was someone, alright.  He was a very big someone that had entered my life out of the blue.  He very possibly might have the ability to change my life… or even save it.

But what of it?

Who was he, really?  What had happened to him that had toughened him and left him fragile at the same time?  Why had he entered my life, and why had I entered his?  None of it made any sense to me, unless I chalked it all up to some cosmic force pushing us together…

_Now there's an idea, baby girl,_ my mom's voice said in my head.  _The stars in all their infinite mystic wisdom are drawing you two together_.  I laughed lightly as I heard her honey voice dripping sarcasm.  Closing my eyes, I envisioned her face floating to the surface of my mind.  There it was, clear and sharp in detail.  Her thick, curly dark brown hair.  Her wide, round blue eyes, clear and crystalline with innocence.  That sweet smile, pug nose, and that dash of freckles sprinkled over her nose that made her look ten years younger.

"Mama…" I said softly, rolling over onto my stomach and pushing my chin up onto my propped fists.  My back half hung off the bed widthwise, but I didn't mind.  I squinted at the brown, knotted oak wall across from me, inches from my nose.  "Where are you?" I whispered again, softer than before.  "I love you.  I miss you.  Come back."

I smoothed my palms face down and crossed my arms, leaning my head to the left on them.  No matter how many times I thought about my mother and the terrible way she'd disappeared, it didn't make any sense.  I still saw her cute, sporty face, makeup-less, the way it looked minutes before he took her.  I still thought about all the Chinese takeout dinners we had shared in the kitchen, me sitting cross-legged on the counter, her leaning against the stove, laughing about something.  I still _felt_ all the same, confusing emotions I had when I found the note and saw his back disappearing through the window…

I shook my head, clearing it of these sobering thoughts.  They would only get me more disheartened and sad, bring on more despair and grief.  I couldn't let grief destroy me as it had almost destroyed Mama when Father left when I was a child.  I couldn't let the grief take me over… I had to be strong for Mama, to get her back somehow.

I sat up.  Harry.  Harry could help me.  Whatever he had experienced, he knew how I felt.  He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, I was sure of it.  As I stood up quickly, I began to pace again.  Whatever I had to do, wherever I had to go, I was going to save my Mom, with Harry's help.  And save him.  Save him from whatever had been in that letter, whatever weight filled his heart with loneliness… I would save him, and he would save me.

I was filled with a new resolve now.  It didn't matter how long it took to get him out of his shell, or how frustrating the fight was.  I would do it.  I had to.  For my Mama, for Harry, for me… for all of us.

Whatever dark nemeses we were fighting, whether they were connected or not, we would conquer them.  With each other.

As I paced, new plans and ideas formulated in my head.  The hope was overpowering, like a surge of cool, cleansing rain.  The hope I had always needed was here, to finally wash away our sorrow.


End file.
